Old Rumours Never Die
by Shorina
Summary: There's been a rumour going around at the Causton police station for years. And old rumours never die. They can however evolve into new, slightly different rumours.
1. Chapter 1

_Old rumors never die; nor do they fade away. They simply lay dormant for a while until the next appropriate time appears._

_TERRY ANN KNOPF, Rumors, Race, and Riots_

* * *

In a dark car somewhere outside Causton, two men, the older at the wheel, the younger in the passenger seat, sit in silence.

It has been exactly one week since Ben Jones was able to drop the "acting" from his status as Detective Constable. His dream has finally come true, he's a CID officer and he's working for a man whose work he has admired for a while already – Detective Chief Inspector Tom Barnaby.

"What do you make of rumours, Jones?" Barnaby's question seems to come out of the blue and startles the DC out of his thoughts.

"Uhm – there's always some truth in them?" It would be much easier to answer for Ben if he had any idea what had triggered the question in the first place.

"Often, Jones, not always."

The young DC nods, but doesn't really understand what they're talking about. "Yes, Sir," he says, because it always seems a good approach towards your superiors.

A minute or two pass in silence before Ben gives up his attempt to get to the bottom of the comment. He twists a little in his seat so he can look at his superior. "Why did you ask, Sir?"

Barnaby doesn't take his eyes off the road as he casually replies, "Oh, just wondering. You know, there's always a lot of gossip going round the station."

Ben nods enthusiastically. "Oh yes, just the other day Meyers from traffic mentioned that WPC Murray is having an affair with..."

He is interrupted by the DCI, lifting his left hand off the wheel, holding it up like a traffic warden stopping a line of cars. "Yes, thank you, Jones. It wasn't a request to be brought up to speed with the latest gossip."

Chastised, Ben turns back to look straight ahead. "Sorry, Sir."

Again time is passed in silence, only interrupted by the ticking of the indicator as they take a right turn.

"You haven't heard then, yet, have you?" Barnaby still doesn't look at his new junior partner.

Ben looks at the DCI's profile, a puzzled expression on his face. "Heard what?"

"Oh, you'd know if you had heard. I'm not sure if it's still going around anyway. But now that you're my right hand," he finally glances at Ben, "or rather my left, you might hear a rumour about me."

Ben is slightly miffed at immediately being degraded from right to left hand before he realises that Barnaby is referring to his being left handed. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, that probably wouldn't go down well with his superior. Occupied with that trail of thought, it takes his brain a moment to catch up with the end of Barnaby's sentence: A rumour about the DCI? He tries to come up with anything but no, he hasn't heard any rumour about his boss, not a single one.

"No, I haven't." He looks at his superior expectantly but the older man doesn't seem willing to tell him anything specific.

"If you do, just remember there's not _always_ truth in rumours."

Ben shakes his head a little, wondering why his boss is being so secretive. If it's a rumour going round the station, he's likely to hear it anyway; so why the mystery?

"You could just tell me yourself," he suggests, trying not to sound as curious as he is.

Barnaby glances at him once more for a brief moment. "I suppose I could," he agrees. But he doesn't.

Ben would love to ask, to probe, but this is his immediate superior and he doesn't want to get on the wrong foot with him, so he keeps his mouth firmly shut.

He is none the wiser by the time they reach their destination and their interview with a man related to their current case makes him forget all about the rumour. Standing at Barnaby's side, he takes notes, watches, learns. Back in the car twenty minutes later, he is flipping through his notes trying to find a clue somewhere among them, when Barnaby once again startles him out of his thoughts.

"Do you know who Gavin Troy is, Jones?"

Ben gives him a puzzled look and flips through his notes some more, trying to find the name among them. But then his brain provides him with sudden insight.

"Oh. Yes, Sir. I never met him but I know of him."

The DCI nods. "He is a good friend, even went out with my daughter a couple of times," he states, throwing Ben a look that clearly warns him off attempting to do the same.

Why is Barnaby telling him _that_ about one of his previous sergeants, Ben wonders. Just to warn him off trying to date the boss's daughter? Not knowing what to reply, he simply nods and his gaze wanders back to his case notes.

But this time, Barnaby hasn't finished with his chosen topic. "Some officers had a little misconception about him." When he glances at his junior partner, he is met by a mix of puzzlement and curiosity. He looks back to the road ahead before continuing. "Someone thought he was _my_ lover."

Ben's mouth nearly hangs open at that statement and he first nods, then shakes his head in disbelief. "Which he wasn't," he comments slowly.

Barnaby throws him a meaningful look.

"Which of course he wasn't. Good friend, took your daughter out. Got it," he quickly ads.

"Exactly."

So that must be the rumour that might reach his ears through the grapevine, Ben concludes. He studies the DCI out of the corner of his eye, wondering how anyone could get the idea that Tom Barnaby, happily married and seemingly protective father of an adult daughter, might not only have had an affair with a junior officer, but with a _male_ junior officer, was beyond him.

"I see what you mean about not all rumours having some truth in them, Sir."

"That's why you're working with me now while Scott jumped at the first chance to get away. He let himself be deceived by rumours."

Ben shakes his head in disapproval. Admittedly, he's not known the DCI personally for long, but he's happy to trust his word more than any gossip overheard in the locker room. Some hero worship might play into that, but so what? Pleased that Barnaby has decided to tell him about the rumour himself, he leans back in his seat with a small smile playing on his lips and returns his attention to their current case.


	2. An Invitation to Dinner

It has happened! Detective Sergeant Ben Jones, oh how he longed for this day to come! And it seems right that he heard about his promotion from from his senior partner, Detective Chief Inspector Tom Barnaby. Right now Ben is so giddy, he could jump for joy, but he refrains from it. Surely that wouldn't be appropriate behaviour for a DS. But he can't help the goofy smile that is plastered on his face as they wrap up their case.

Back at the station a while after being told of the news, he's typing away at his report when Barnaby walks up to his desk.

"What are you doing tonight, Jones?"

Ben looks up at him questioningly. "I don't know yet. Depends on when I finish the report, I suppose."

"Wrong, you're coming for dinner. Mrs Barnaby insists on celebrating your promotion." He makes it sound like a terrible chore, but Ben can read his boss well enough by now to know he's actually agreeing with his wife.

Ben suppresses a grin. "I suppose in that case, my evening has been planned for me." He manages to make it sound just as unnerved as Barnaby did.

"Can't be helped. Oh, and she said you should bring your lady-friend." Barnaby walks over to his own desk and sits down.

Ben looks after him, confused. "My lady-friend?"

"The one she met you with the other day. She mentioned it to me for whatever reason."

"Oh, her!" Ben exclaims, letting his pen drop onto his desk, leaning back and stretching before he continues. "Maggie, she's my cousin. She was visiting the family for a few days. I was showing her around Causton when we met Mrs Barnaby."

"No lady-friend, then?" Barnaby enquires and receives a rueful smile in return.

"Wouldn't mind if there was, but – no."

"I wouldn't let Mrs Barnaby hear that. I can't guarantee for your safety if she does."

The lines are delivered while the DCI is studying a note someone left on his desk for him, so he doesn't see how hard Ben is trying not to laugh out loud. He's aware that Joyce Barnaby has a bit of a soft spot for him and he doesn't doubt that she might try to set him up with the daughter of some friend or acquaintance.

"So what do I tell her why I'm coming on my own?"

"You have until eight to decide on that, Jones," Barnaby replies and gets up, walking out of the office.

* * *

When Ben arrives at the DCI's house shortly before eight, it is neither Joyce Barnaby nor her husband who open the door; it's Cully, their daughter.

"Hello Ben, come in. And congratulations." She smiles at him, then looks past him out of the door. "Mum said you'd be bringing someone?"

"Thank you, Cully. But no, I'm on my own." And he is none the wiser yet how to keep the boss's wife from interfering with that. He peers around Cully to see if her mother might be within earshot, but it seems safe to speak up.

"Look, Cully, I don't currently have a girlfriend, but your father thought if your mother ..."

Cully interrupts him. "Oh yes, she would, wouldn't she?" She laughs. "So you need some excuse why your girlfriend couldn't come?"

Ben looks at her hopefully. "Something that sounds credible, yeah. I mean, what girlfriend wouldn't want to celebrate her partner's promotion if she could make it at all?"

"Ill?" Cully suggests, but Ben shakes his head.

"Your mother might end up giving me a bowl of chicken soup for her."

"You could eat it yourself."

Ben doesn't comment on that, only pulls a face. Joyce Barnaby is a wonderful person, but not a wonderful cook.

"Oh, come on through before they get suspicious, we'll think of something." With a hand on his shoulder, she hurries her father's junior partner through to the kitchen.

"Ben!" Joyce exclaims and rushes over to hug him, holding her hands away from him awkwardly as they are sticking in oven gloves. "Congratulations and well done!"

"Thank you, Mrs Barnaby," Ben replies, trying to politely disentangle himself. But his superior comes to his rescue before he manages.

"Joyce, the oven, the oven!"

"Coming! Tom, mind your manners, offer our guests a drink."

"Guest," Cully corrects her mother.

With a steaming hot casserole in her gloved hands, Joyce straightens and turns back to Ben, then to her husband. "What? Tom, haven't you told him to bring his girlfriend?"

"Oh, I have, I have indeed," he replies while busying himself with opening a wine bottle.

"Then where is she? She seemed such a lovely young woman, Ben."

"The woman I was with when we met in town the other day? That was my cousin Maggie," Ben confesses. "She was only visiting for a few days."

Joyce puts down the hot casserole on the kitchen counter. "Oh, that's too bad. And there's no one else you could bring?"

Ben shrugs a little helplessly.

"But mum, you asked him to bring his girlfriend. Didn't you know Ben is homosexual?" Cully delivers the line with such certainty in her voice, that everyone – including Ben – stares at her for a long moment. She breaks out in laughter at their expressions. "Oh mum, give him a break. If he doesn't want to bring his girlfriend to his boss's house, I can't really blame him. One detective is enough for most people."

Joyce gives Ben a curious look for a moment and then suddenly turns to her husband, who is watching the scene with growing amusement – and a still unopened wine bottle in his hands. "Tom, the wine!"

Ben's private life is not mentioned again throughout the dinner. Yet later that night, just as Tom Barnaby starts to drift off to sleep, Joyce shakes his shoulder. "Tom? He's not really homosexual, is he?"

"Oh for heaven's sake, will you just leave the boy alone, Joyce?" And him, too, if you please.

Joyce remains silent for a long moment and Tom only vaguely hears her say, "Surely he's heterosexual. I can't be that wrong," before he falls asleep.


	3. We've Got The Evidence Right Here

Detective Sergeant Ben Jones enters the Causton police station through the rear entrance, having left his bicycle in a stand there. On his way to the locker room, to change into his suit in time for the start of his shift, he meets a PC and gives him a friendly nod. It is met with a hostile glare.

'Must have gotten up on the wrong side of bed,' Ben muses and enters the locker room. Two other PCs are inside, buttoning up their uniform shirts and laughing about something. It's nothing out of the ordinary, put two or more coppers together in a locker room and someone's bound to start cracking jokes.

"Morning," Ben greets them and one nods at him in return, the other greets him with "morning, Sarge." But then look at each other and burst out laughing.

Ben looks himself down. Anything wrong? Fly open? Wait, his sports trousers don't even have a zipper. And he can see nothing else that might be wrong. He shakes his head as he drops his backpack onto the bench and turns to open his locker. Leave them to their fun, he's running late as it is.

The two PCs leave while he's still changing, but one of them turns back around in the door and makes a kissy face at Ben.

Caught with his trousers around his ankles, Ben doesn't stand a chance to reach him before he's out of the door, though. 'God, some colleagues are truly childish!' He thinks, annoyed.

Finally he has changed, and leaves the locker room, straightening his tie as he walks into the reception area of the station to get to the CID offices on the other side.

The reception area is surprisingly crowded with colleagues this morning, yet as he walks in, a hush falls over the room. Ben stops and looks at some of his colleagues, but no one is willing to meet his eye today.

"So, what's going on here?" He demands to know.

Unexpectedly it's George Bullard, the coroner, who walks up to him with a grave face. "Et tu, Brute?" He asks, making Ben stare at him uncomprehendingly. "I had no idea, Benjamin. Of course I've known about Tom for a long time, I had my suspicions about Troy, but you?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"No use trying to deny it, we've got the evidence right here," someone calls from the direction of the bulletin board. Ben cranes his neck to see who it was, but too many uniformed policemen are standing around the board to identify the speaker.

He throws Bullard another questioning glance but the coroner doesn't seem to have anything else to say. So Ben's only option is to walk over to the board and see for himself what 'evidence' there is. And most of all – of what.

"Shouldn't most of you be elsewhere by now?" He demands with as much authority in his voice as he can muster up as he jostles through the throng around the board. But what he sees pinned up there leaves him speechless: A photo of his superior, Detective Chief Inspector Tom Barnaby and himself kissing.

He realises immediately that it's the same photo of Barnaby that's been used in that manipulation in their last case, when it showed Barnaby kissing a woman he didn't know. And now he's looking at his own face pasted in. Where did that photo of himself even come from? Who could have a picture of him kissing someone?

As he reaches out to rip it off, someone starts making kissing noises behind his back and immediately others join in until the sound seems to fill the whole room.

Ben rips the photo off the board and scrunches it up into a ball as he whirls back around. "If I find out who did this..." he hollers, his voice rising in pitch due to anger and embarrassment.

Then a hand is on his shoulder and the room falls silent again. Ben slowly looks over his shoulder – at Tom Barnaby who is standing right behind him.

"Sir!" Ben exclaims in surprise.

"It's alright, Jones. You just can't keep that kind of secret in a police station." And then Barnaby leans in and kisses him.

* * *

Ben sits up in bed, his heart is racing, he's hot and sweaty. But ah, he's at home. In his bed. Alone. Other days the thought saddens him, right now he's exalted by it. Only a dream, but what a nightmare! He rubs his eyes in the hope of rubbing away the images his subconscious conjured up in his sleep.

He hasn't thought about that stupid rumour of Tom Barnaby and Gavin Troy being lovers in a long time. Why now? The photo of Barnaby he can make sense of, it caused a lot of problems in their last case, so much that Ben had to go against orders to help his boss. It was emotionally stressful. But why did his subconscious put himself in the picture?

He gets up to get some water from the kitchen, pondering his dream. Is his subconscious trying to tell him something? With a glass of tap water in his hand, he sits down at the table.

Ben is certain he is not gay, not even bisexual. Yes, he is fiercely loyal to Barnaby, but that's not because of any sexual interest; it's out of respect - and admiration. He never fully got over his hero worship.

Are there rumours about Barnaby and him? He isn't aware of anything. Can he have overheard something without it really registering at the moment?

No matter which way he tries to tackle the dream, he can't make sense of it. But he's wide awake now, even though it's only twenty past four in the morning. He doesn't think he can go back to sleep tonight.

Having driven to work, he is too tired to be bothered to cycle, Ben is already dressed suitably and walks into the police station in Causton through the front entrance. A very conscious choice as he is parked out back. But the dream is still haunting him and he can't help but look at the bulletin board as he passes through the entrance. Nothing but the usual stuff up there. Warning posters, an announcement for the next police ball... nothing new since he last checked.

The desk sergeant on duty this morning is an old acquaintance of Ben's. "Morning Ben, this came for you," he greets Ben with a smile and pushes an envelope over the counter.

"Hello John," Ben returns the greeting and reaches for the envelope. "Thanks."

As he walks on to the CID office, he breathes out a sigh of relief. Everything seems so normal. Well, Tom Barnaby already being seated at his desk is a little unusual, most days Ben arrives before him. But as his superior seems engrossed in his reading, it looks like a report from Ben's position, he simply says, "Morning, Sir," and sits down.

"Morning, Jones," his boss gives back without looking up.

Ben opens the envelope John gave him, wondering what is in it. He pulls out a few photos and he remembers they're from a friend's stag night he's been to not long ago. Another one getting married, it must be easier for people with other professions to find a partner for life. When was the last time he made it past a second date?

He flips through the shots and winces. Oh dear, it had been a wild night indeed. He mostly remembered the hangover he had the next morning, but the pictures trigger some more memories.

As his gaze falls on the last picture, he drops the whole stack. There's him, kissing one of the pole-dancers at the club they'd been to. But in his mind, the image from his dream comes rushing back, him kissing Barnaby.

Then a hand is on his shoulder and he nearly flinches away from the touch. Ben slowly looks over his shoulder – at Tom Barnaby who is standing right behind him. Just like in his dream. He resists the urge to pinch himself.

Ben hasn't heard his boss walking up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder as he leans in to look at the dropped photographs. Now the DCI picks up the picture that startled Ben.

"Very attractive," Barnaby comments and straightens again. "Of course I'm a happily married man," he ads when he notices Ben's startled face and drops the photo again before walking away.


	4. My Dear Jones

"That, my dear Jones, is solely your problem. Ta-ta."

Those are the last words DS Ben Jones hears from his superior, DCI Tom Barnaby, before the older detective heads out the door to start his holiday.

Ben drops his pen and hides his face in his hands, groaning slightly. He really had hoped for a word of advice on how to deal with an annoying neighbourhood argument that keeps flaring up regularly each day when the involved parties return home from work. You can set the clock by it.

While he's sitting there, pondering the injustice of his fate, the sound of giggling reaches his ear from behind. He lets his hands fall to his desk and pushes himself around to face WPC Gail Stevens who's been helping out with cases on occasion and has been assigned to the CID for the time of Barnaby's absence. "And what's it you find so amusing?"

"Oh just..." Gail leans back in her chair to check if the DCI might not be returning before she continues, "'My dear Jones'? He said that exactly the way I always imagine Sherlock Homes would say 'my dear Watson'."

Ben considers it for a moment, then grins at Gail. "You know, you're probably right. And if I'm Watson, it explains why I have to do all the paperwork! He had to write up all of Holmes' cases, too."

"Haha, yes. And next the DCI will show up with a chequered cap and a pipe!"

"He's already got a magnifying glass somewhere," Ben adds, his misery momentarily forgotten.

They quip for a moment longer before each focuses back on his work. But Gail doesn't remain silent for long.

"Of course, other times, he says it differently."

"Says what differently?" Ben twists in his chair to look at her over his shoulder.

Gail has turned around and is facing him. "'My dear Jones', sometimes it sounds like you two are an old married couple."

"Oy!" Ben grabs his rubber off his desk and throws it in Gail's direction, but she evades it and it bounces across her desk to finally fall onto the floor on the opposite side.

"_I'm_ not picking that up," Gail states and busies herself with some papers on her desk.

Ben glares at her back for a moment before getting up to retrieve his rubber. He's not really mad at her anyway. It's just that remarks like that always make him wonder if the old rumour of Barnaby and his ex-sergeant Gavin Troy being lovers has somehow evolved into Barnaby and his current sergeant being lovers. Ben has had nightmares of people thinking that of him!

* * *

A couple of days later, Tom and Joyce Barnaby stand outside a souvenir shop in sunny Spain.

"Joyce? What do you think of this one?" Tom holds up a postcard to his wife.

"A postcard? I thought we didn't want to send any this time. We can send our _own_ photos with our mobile phones. And it's faster, too."

"I am aware of that," Tom patiently explains. "But I am still going to send a postcard to Jones."

"Well, it's nice you're thinking of him, but he's a young man, surely _he_ won't mind getting a photo to his phone instead?"

"And when did _you_ become so tech-savvy, love?"

"Cully showed me how to do it," Joyce announces, pride for her clever daughter swinging in her voice.

"That's very good of Cully. And yet, _I_ intend to stay the old-fashioned copper I am and send a postcard. So what do you make of this one?" He holds it up once more.

"Well, it _is_ nice."

"Thank you, I'll just go and pay for it then." Tom enters the store without checking if there was anything his wife would like to take along. As it happens, there was, and she follows him in, putting a small framed painting, or probably just a reproduction of one, on the counter next to the postcard.

"Oh, you found something then," Tom says. "And who is this for?" He studies the picture while they wait for the clerk to come to the check-out.

"Susan."

"Why do we need to buy a present for Susan?" Tom asks, slightly irritated.

"Because she's watering the flowers while we're on holiday. Oh Tom, I told you about that last week!"

"Oh yes, so you have," Tom says, not remembering it. But he knows better than to argue with his wife.

* * *

After dinner, Tom sits on the balcony of their hotel room. The postcard is supported by a book on his lap and he's got a pen in hand. The postcard contains no more than the address of DS Ben Jones at Causton CID when Joyce comes out onto the balcony.

She notices her husband's pose as she sits down in a chair and opens her book. "Please send him my love."

"Your love? He's my sergeant not our son."

Joyce drops her book and looks at her husband, rather taken aback by his strong reaction to her innocent request. "Well, phrase it differently then. Tell him I said hello." She raises her book again.

Little does she know that her husband finds it a difficult task to write this postcard. As it is, he can't even decide how to begin. "Dear Jones?" He calls him that on the job occasionally. It seems too formal for holiday greetings. Just "Jones"? Too gruff. "Ben"? "Dear Ben"? That would feel just like sending him Joyce's love. In other words – wrong. Too intimate. Anyone can read a postcard after all. He likes the young man a great deal, but one rumour about him having an affair with a junior partner was enough to last him a lifetime; once bitten, twice shy. And he doesn't want to put another young man through that experience, either.

"Have we ever sent a postcard to Gavin?" He finally asks his wife.

Joyce replies without lowering her book or turning to face him. "_I_ have. You never were a big postcard writer. I'm surprised you insist on sending one to Ben now. Why do you ask?"

"What did you write?"

"Oh, the usual holiday greetings: The weather's fine, the hotel's nice, we're having a good old time doing some sight-seeing."

That, of course, is not what Tom wanted to know. But he's a little ashamed of his trouble to come up with a suitable address for his junior partner, especially as he never told Joyce about the rumour that has made him consider his words so carefully, so he doesn't ask her for any more help with it.

"Very creative, then," he comments instead.

"More creative than you have been so far," Joyce says. She may still be looking at her book, but she is aware that Tom hasn't written a single word since she joined him on the balcony.

After a while, Tom begins to write, but there is white space at the top where the salutation is still missing. Finally he puts the card down, picture side up, and opens his book.

It's not before the next morning, that Joyce gets to see the postcard.

"Shall we take the card for Ben along? We can drop it in the box on the way to breakfast," she calls out to her husband who is shaving in the bathroom. She picks up the card and reads it - and of course she notices the missing address.

"I'll post it later," Tom calls back.

"I can see why," Joyce says in a low voice before replying, "Don't leave it too late, Tom, or we'll be back home before the card arrives."

After breakfast, Joyce asks another hotel guest to take a photo of her and Tom with her mobile phone. Back at their room, she sets about sending it to her daughter with a greeting. "B-u-e-n-o-s D-i-a-s C-u-l-l-y," she spells out loud enough for her husband to overhear. And she smiles to herself when Tom suddenly reaches for the postcard and scribbles something onto it.

"I'll just quickly post the card," he announces a moment later. "Send Cully my love."

"I shall," Joyce confirms.

* * *

Upon his return to work, Barnaby finds his sergeant and WPC Stevens at their desks in the CID office.

"Buenos dias, busy keepers of the law," he greets the assembled CID staff and proceeds straight to his desk.

Before Ben can reply, Gail catches his eye for a moment and Ben rolls his eyes at her before turning towards their superior. "Buenos dias, my dear Barnaby."

"Welcome back, Sir, did you have a nice holiday?" Gail asks from next to him. Ben hasn't noticed her approach.

Barnaby doesn't even look up from the mail he just picked off his desk. "Thank you, Stevens, I did indeed."

Gail throws Ben a smug look, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet.

No acknowledgement of Ben's greeting, but that is just fine with the sergeant. He had expected worse for his uncommon greeting. "Thank you for the postcard, Sir!" He adds.

"Oh, good, it arrived then," Barnaby says, still not looking up.

But as Ben finds out later that day, his greeting has registered on the DCI's brain.

Once Ben has brought him up to speed with their closed and current cases, Barnaby bestows a stern look at him before the younger man can retreat. "'My dear Barnaby?'"

"Ah," Ben says, straightening up, looking as remorseful as he can manage. "You see, Sir, Gail, that is, WPC Stevens and I had a little bet going... that I lost."

"I see," Barnaby says quietly. "And that bet was about what?"

"That she could end that neighbourhood argument once and for all."

"Stevens managed that?" Barnaby asks, clearly surprised and impressed.

Ben nods. "Oh yes, Sir, one visit of hers and it's been quiet ever since. Uhm," he bends down to seek the right file in the stack he had brought along. "Here's the file, if you want to read the details." He merely points it out, but doesn't pull it out of the stack to offer it to the DCI.

Barnaby gets the message that maybe he doesn't want to know the details. "Case closed while you were responsible, that's good enough for me. I'll be busy enough with the open cases."

The relief is visible on Ben's face. "Yes, Sir!" He gathers up his files and turns to leave, but doesn't even have time to turn around before Barnaby addresses him once more.

"Oh, Jones?"

"Sir?"

"I hope you learned a lesson from that lost bet."

"Oh, yes, Sir. Absolutely: Some problems require a female touch to resolve them." With that, he hurries back to his own desk, due to which he doesn't see the astonishment on his superior's face.

"Some do, indeed," Barnaby says quietly, thinking back to the postcard.


	5. Touché

It is the first day in the life of DC Gail Stephens. How wonderfully different it feels to be out of uniform. Though, as the only female member of the CID in Causton, she is still uncertain of the correct dress code. And she probably shouldn't be surprised that her sergeant, DS Ben Jones, isn't much help in that respect. Men rarely are. Yet Ben's opinion counts for a lot in Gail's mind, for she rather likes her colleague. Not that she'd admit it, but they get along very well. And you never know where that might lead.

So when Ben suggested they celebrate her promotion with lunch at the pub across the street, she beamed at him happily. And it's been nice to sit there, chatting with him.

Yet as they leave the pub, Ben sends her back to the station alone. "You go ahead, Gail, I still have a little errand to run." He checks his watch and winces. "And I'd better get going."

Gail nods. "Glad it won't be me returning late from lunch on my first full day in CID," she comments with a grin.

Returning the grin, Ben hurries off. And hurry he does for Gail has only just gotten back to her paperwork when Ben walks in, holding a lovely bouquet of flowers.

As he walks towards Gail with the flowers, her eyes go wide and she smiles at him. Only to be disappointed.

"Could you find me something to put these in for a couple of hours, Gail?" He pushes them into her hands, oblivious of her disappointment. "Thanks."

"Oh, yes, sure." She tries not to let her feelings show as she takes the flowers from him. "Surely there's a bucket or something around."

It takes her longer than expected to find a suitable pot, though. All buckets are much too big, so she ends up using an old coffee pot for a vase.

She takes the flowers back to the CID, not sure what would happen to them if she left them in the tearoom. She finds Ben sitting at his desk with his back to her and that means he's also sitting directly opposite their boss, Detective Chief Inspector Tom Barnaby.

It's this setting, that gives Gail an idea for revenge on Ben for using her like this. She walks up to his desk and puts the flowers down on his desk. "Thanks again for taking me out to lunch, Ben. It was lovely. And sorry about the coffee pot, it was all I could find."

She makes sure the DCI can see the broad smile she aims at Ben before she retreats to her own desk.

"Lovely, was it?" She hears Barnaby ask, obviously not aimed at her, but at Ben. And she can just picture the smirk on the DCI's face as he, as she had hoped, jumps to wrong conclusions. Unfortunately at this point her phone rings so she misses Ben's reply.

* * *

Two days later, Ben returns to the office from an interview with the business partner of a victim with a box of chocolates in his hand.

"Where's Gail?" He asks, as his eyes fall onto her empty desk.

Tom Barnaby looks up from the documents he has been studying and takes in the picture of his sergeant, a box of chocolates in his hand, looking for his female colleague. "Working, as you should have been," he replies with pointed glance at the candy.

Ben gives his superior an odd look, not sure what the DCI is aiming at until he drops the box of chocolates onto his desk and notices Barnaby's eyes following the box. "Oh, that? I just didn't want to leave them in the car any longer, it's getting too hot."

Barnaby doesn't so much mind Ben stopping to buy something along the way, he has done that often enough himself, but after lunch and flowers earlier this week, he wonders if there is something going on between his team members that he should be aware of. He knows the two younger detectives get along well. Is that turning into more?

"So what _is_ Gail working on?" Ben interrupts his thoughts.

Tom decides to keep an eye on his subordinates but not to say anything just yet. "Oh, one of those things that require a _female touch_."

"Ah," Ben says, knowingly. "Not my old friends again, I hope?"

"Oh, no. Would you believe it, there are more people in Midsomer who spend their free time having shouting matches with their neighbours."

"Absolutely, Sir," Ben says as he sits down to look through his notes from the interview, secretly glad he's not the one who has to deal with arguing neighbours any more.

* * *

A couple of days later, Gail is chatting to WPC Sharon Murray, a former colleague and good friend, when Ben walks by, saying hello and smiling at Gail.

"You quite like him, don't you?" Sharon asks as once Ben is out of earshot.

Gail actually blushes a little. "Is it that obvious?"

Sharon giggles. "To me it is. But I doubt he noticed."

"Oh?" Gail isn't sure if that's a good or a bad thing. "Well, men can be quite daft that way, can't they?"

Sharon looks at her friend with a more serious expression on her face. "Or they're simply not _interested_."

The way she said interested makes Gail listen up. "He's got a girlfriend, right? He bought flowers and chocolates last week, I bet he's trying to seduce his new flame."

Sharon snorts. "Hardly. You mean you really have no clue? You've been working with them on and off for a while now!"

Them? Who is her friend talking of, Gail wonders. "No clue of what?!"

Checking left and right for eavesdroppers before she leans closer, Sharon explains, "It's all over the station that the DCI _likes_ his Sergeant a great deal. I can't believe you hadn't heard!"

Gail looks at her, dumbfounded. "Likes?" She echoes before something clicks and her expression turns to disbelief. "What – the DCI and Ben?" Inadvertently she looks in the direction Ben has walked off to just a minute earlier. "No, never," she insists.

"Just because you don't like it doesn't mean it's not true. Apparently the DCI likes younger men, the old DS, Troy..." Sharon can tell from Gail's expression that she doesn't need to finish the sentence. "But you haven't heard that from me."

Gail just stares down the corridor. How could she not notice that?

"Sorry, gotta run, Gail," Sharon says, laying a hand on her friend's arm for a moment before heading off to start her work day.

"Yes, of course. See you around," Gail replies before she walks to the CID office in a bit of a daze.

* * *

Over the next days, Gail tries to observe her two superiors as secretly and inconspicuously as she can. But Ben notices her looks a couple of times and as the looks he throws her in return change from confused to annoyed, she decides to try a different approach.

"How's it going with your new girlfriend, Ben?" She asks him outright, as they sit in his car.

Ben is so taken by surprise by her question that he takes his eyes off the road for a moment.

"Ben!" Gail exclaims as they come dangerously close to the fence at her side of the narrow road.

Ben corrects himself immediately. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Gail turns in her seat to face him. "The flowers and chocolates the other week? It's a bit of a cliché but maybe she likes that kind of thing?"

Understanding grows in Ben's mind. "They were for my granny! She was in hospital for a couple of days," he explains.

"Oh. Yes, I'm sure she's the generation who likes getting a box of chocolates," Gail replies, unwilling to feel embarrassed by her mistake. His granny – why didn't he just say so in the first place? "Nothing serious, I hope?"

"No, she's fine again, back home, too."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it," Gail replies and she makes herself count down from twenty, slowly, before she asks her next question. "So... no girlfriend then?"

Ben briefly looks over so she can see he's rolling his eyes. "No."

"Oh. Why not?" She manages to make it sound totally innocent.

"Don't tell me dating a copper is a turn on for other guys, because your sex doesn't seem to like it much at all."

"Some don't mind," Gail says.

"Suppose so. Haven't met any of them yet, though." Ben gives back, sounding rather grumpy by now. "The moment you abandon your date for a corpse, the date usually turns sour."

Gail can't help but laugh at that. "God, if you tell it to them like that, I'm sure it does!"

And her laughter is so catching, soon they're both chuckling. At least Gail now is convinced that Ben _is_ interested in women, so he's definitely not gay. He could still be bisexual. But she's not sure how to bring that up. Especially not what Sharon told her. She still can't see it herself, only that Ben is like a puppy when it comes to the DCI, following him around more loyally than might be good for him at times.

* * *

Gail and Ben's friendship grows over time as they work more closely together but much to Gail's dismay, Ben either doesn't recognise her attempts at flirting or he decidedly ignores them. Is there someone occupying the sergeant's heart after all?

Then, one day when the DCI is out of town, Ben suddenly invites her out for lunch at a lovely pub. What better chance for some more research into the matter?

"Have you been here before, Ben?" She asks, fishing for information.

"No, but I wish I had," Ben gives back, obviously enjoying the time off and the sun in his face.

"Do you have lunch out with the DCI sometimes?"

"Nah, never really. Maybe catching a drink along the way, but actual lunch? Nope." He looks at her. "He probably wouldn't approve of this, either."

Jealous? It's the first reason that Gail thinks of, but she's aware there probably are other possible reasons. "Oh, why's that?"

Ben grimaces. "Nothing to do Jones?" He asks in as close to Barnaby's tone as he can manage and Gail laughs.

"He's keeping you on your toes, isn't he?"

"Right of the senior detective, I suppose."

Gail smiles at him. "Of course you jump at his every word."

"Oh, because you so wouldn't," Ben gives back. He knows how hard Gail tried to get on Barnaby's good side to get promoted to CID.

She shrugs. "I don't think he likes me as much as he likes you."

Ben gives her a quizzically look. "Really? He doesn't know you as well yet, I suppose."

"And how well does he know you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know. Do you talk much outside work? Does he know Ben Jones or only DS Jones?"

Ben considers that question. "Mostly DS Jones, I suppose." He starts to grin, "Though I must have told him half of my family history by now. Comes with being the local boy, my folks have all sorts of knowledge about the history of the area that comes in handy at times."

They talk some more and soon their food arrives. But before they can enjoy it, Ben's mobile rings and of course it's the DCI. And of course he is aware of the fact that his sergeant is not, as he had expected, hard at work at the office, but has decided to take an extended lunch break somewhere. Ben looks guilty at being caught out and briefly Gail wonders if he feels guilty for being caught out at what be considered a date, even if she has given up hope on that herself by now. But it turns out it's really just about work and them not being at the station when they're needed.

"Was he very mad?" Gail asks as they make their way back to the station.

"Mad? Not quite the right word. Angry to some extent, yeah. Best to make up for it with some good results before he gets back."

* * *

But Gail and Ben are not the only ones whose thoughts are lingering on the brief phone call. Tom is sure he heard ducks. And at the office they told him Jones had gone out for lunch with Stephens.

Of course office romances aren't forbidden, but they can turn into a problem, especially when one of the couple is a direct superior of the other. So the DCI decides to extend some advice to his sergeant when the chance presents itself.

It does present itself when they're dealing with the paperwork any case requires once it is solved. And conveniently Gail has been sent off on a brief errant by Ben.

"Look, Sir, about that lunch the other day," the DS starts when they're alone.

"Ah yes, I had been meaning to have a word with you about that myself. You first, though," Barnaby replies, putting his reading glasses down.

Ben swallows before he continues. "I had my mobile phone with me and left a note here where I could be reached. We weren't far away and it was quiet here at the time, we weren't making any progress so I thought..."

"You thought you'd sneak off for a little tête-à-tête," Barnaby finishes the sentence for him.

Which is not what Ben had intended to say. "I thought it wouldn't hurt to – for once – get a proper lunch." He looks at his superior more confused than remorseful now.

"With Stephens," Barnaby prompts.

"Well, why not?"

"Yes, why not? Well, for one thing, your lunch break doesn't really allow for extended leisurely lunches."

"As I said, it was quiet here..." Ben starts to defend himself but can tell there's no mercy to be expected on that charge. "And secondly?" He asks, wondering what else is to come. Setting a bad example to a subordinate?

"Just a word of advice, Jones. Be careful with regard to Stephens. You two are working closely together."

"Sir?" Ben asks, not getting what Barnaby is hinting at.

"I don't mind if you two... you know. Just... consider the possible consequences."

Neither of them has noticed Gail returning to the office, but she heard half of the conversation and as this seems to be about her as much as about Ben, she decides to speak up.

"You mean there might be a new rumour starting about Ben and I, just like the one about him and you, Sir? With just as little truth in it?" It's the safest way she can think of putting it, not accusing anyone, yet setting things right; and hopefully finally getting a confirmation that the story of Ben and Barnaby _is_ nothing but a silly rumour.

Ben looks up at her, groaning. "Oh God, is that story about _me_ now?"

But before she can do more than nod, Barnaby says, "Exactly, Stephens. I see we made you a detective for a reason." And with that, he puts his reading glasses back on and very pointedly focuses on his paperwork.

While Ben still gives his superior and odd look, Gail turns and heads back to her desk, smiling. Touché, she thinks.


End file.
